Save Him
by Emily Blake
Summary: When Sam discovers that Lucifer is the only one who can remove the Mark of Cain from Dean's arm, he travels to the deepest pit in Hell to save his brother…
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This "what if" idea has been rattling around my head for a couple weeks now, so even though it looks like Season 10 is going in a totally different direction, I figured I may as well put it out there. It's kind of like an alternate sequence of events for the end of Season 10/beginning of Season 11. (How AWESOME is this season, you guys?!)

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

Sam's heart thudded in his throat as he descended the last few steps.

At the bottom of the cracked stone staircase lay a small antechamber, and at the end of the room was a wall of jagged metal bars. The metal was of an otherworldly nature, the beams crisscrossing in a latticework resembling a spider's web interwoven with sharp thorns. Every inch of the metalwork was etched with Enochian symbols, ancient spellwork designed to hold back the power locked within.

His knees shook slightly as he stepped down onto the stone floor and slowly crossed to the gate, but he forced himself to keep going. His arms ached from fighting his way down there. An unpleasant feeling of soggy warmth seeped through the interior breast pocket of his jacket, pooling from where the demon-killing knife was stowed. Even by entering Hell as stealthily as he had, he'd had to kill more than a dozen demons on his way to the Cage.

More would be coming soon. He would have to hurry.

Sam reached the metal gate. Every instinct in his body told him to run. His hallucinations may have been long gone, but he still remembered what had happened to him in this place. But it didn't matter. This was his only chance.

On the other side of the gate, the inky darkness was dreadfully silent. Nothing moved or spoke within its depths. But Sam knew he was being watched.

He took a breath and cleared his throat. "Lucifer!" he called, his voice deceptively clear.

At first nothing happened. Sam swallowed, about to call again.

"Well, look who came home."

Sam jumped. He turned to see the object of his worst nightmares had appeared at the far left end of the Cage. He forced himself to walk over and stand in front of him.

Lucifer lounged casually against the bars, a mere arm's length from Sam, who couldn't help but recoil.

"Hey there, Sammy," Lucifer murmured. A wry smirk played across his face, but unmistakable hatred glowed in his eyes. "It's about time you came to visit. Been keeping the bed warm for you. I've missed you."

"Dean has the Mark of Cain," Sam said, nearly choking on his own voice.

A harsh laugh cut through the darkness behind Lucifer's back.

Sam pushed his fear deeper into his gut.

Lucifer glanced behind him. "Ah yes, we heard a rumor about that…"

"I want you to take it off of him."

Lucifer chuckled, shaking his head bemusedly. "Oh, Sam. Sam, Sam, Sam…"

The fallen angel looked him up and down. Sam waited, fists clenched.

Lucifer's eyes narrowed slightly. "Why would I do that?"

"Because if you do, I will let you out again," he answered. "I'll say yes."

A gleam alit in those reptilian eyes. "Really," the angel stated flatly, his voice steeped in amused disbelief.

"Really," Sam replied.

He could practically feel Lucifer searching his mind for any sign of deception, any hint of a trap. But there wasn't any. Not this time.

The gleaming eyes narrowed even further, and Lucifer pushed off the wall the stand up straight in front of Sam.

"And I suppose once precious Dean's free of his little skin condition and you let me out, you'll just jump right back down the rabbit hole again, right?" he hissed.

"No."

"You really expect me to believe that, Sam?"

"I don't care what you believe," Sam snapped. "Either you take the deal or go on rotting in that cell forever. What do you have to lose?"

Lucifer thought for a moment, then chuckled. "I've never seen you this desperate. Even when I was peeling the meat off your bones…" He hummed in sick satisfaction. "Gotta say, I'm a little turned on."

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. He had to be strong. He had to save Dean. There was no other way.

"So, what do you say?" Sam asked quietly.

Another low chuckle rippled from the shadows at Lucifer's back. The invisible cellmate's grim amusement did nothing to calm Sam's quaking nerves.

Lucifer looked thoughtful, cupping his chin in one hand and pacing back and forth like a caged predator.

After a moment he stopped and looked Sam dead in the eye. He opened his mouth to speak…

"SAM, GET AWAY FROM HIM!" an all-too familiar voice bellowed.

Sam whirled around. Crowley stood at the top of the stairs, eyeing the Cage with apprehension.

And hurtling down the steps toward him was Dean.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Sam cursed under his breath. He thought he'd gotten a bigger head start than this…

His brother stomped toward him, his face etched with fury.

"Dean…," Sam began, but he was cut off when his brother grabbed him by the jacket and slammed him back into the wall. The air was painfully knocked from his lungs.

" _Lucifer?!_ " Dean seethed, eyes flashing dangerously. " _Freaking Lucifer?!_ THAT'S YOUR PLAN?!"

"Dean, listen!" Sam shouted, but his brother wasn't having any of it. He was pinning him to the wall with inhuman strength.

"You lie to me, banish Cas, sneak out of the bunker, steal my car…"

"I know, and I'm _sorry_ ," Sam insisted, then frowned. "How did you even find me?"

"You've been acting squirrely ever since Metatron let slip the Prince of Dickless over here…"

"That hurts my feelings, Dean," Lucifer remarked innocently.

"…could remove the Mark. And then after weeks of coming up with jack, suddenly I find your little angel flusher glyph, Cas is blown to God knows where, and you're just gone. I put two and two together." Dean jerked his head at Crowley, who waited at the foot of the stairs, watching everything intently. "Called in a favor for a lift."

"Look, I'm sorry about Cas," Sam pressed, truly meaning it. "But if I hadn't sent him away, he could have warned you and beaten me here…"

"Heaven's closed, Sam!" Dean yelled. "You had no idea where he could've ended up!"

"This is the only way…"

"This is _not_ an option!"

"The Mark is eating you alive, Dean!" Sam snapped, trying to shove his brother off of him. "You think I don't notice the puking up blood? The _nightmares_? How you walk around like you're about to snap at any second?"

"I'm handling it!"

"YOU'RE DYING!" Sam roared, his voice cracking. He fought the angry tears building behind his eyes. He just wanted this to be over. He just wanted his brother to be all right.

Dean let go of him and took a step back. His anger melted, and Sam could see the pure fear hidden beneath it. This was Dean's darkest nightmare, Sam coming back to Lucifer. He knew that, and he was sorry, so sorry. But they had no other choice.

"You know I'd rather die than see you taken again," Dean said hoarsely.

Sam nodded. "I know."

"My life isn't worth letting this son of a bitch off the leash," Dean growled, shooting a glare at the fallen angel.

"I'm not gonna do anything, honest," Lucifer quipped, crossing his heart. "Swear to Daddy."

"You shut up!" Dean snapped. Lucifer raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Dean, I get it," Sam said, taking a step toward his brother. "I do. I don't want to do this, either. But you can't take anymore. I can see it. Let's just finally get rid of the Mark and we can figure the rest out later! I can't… I can't…"

But he couldn't get the words out anymore. _I can't lose you_.

Dean rubbed a shaky hand over his eyes. He looked tired. So tired. Something about him was crumbling away before Sam's eyes. Was it… resolve?

Dean glanced back at Crowley, who gave the smallest shake of his head. Something like understanding passed between them, but Sam didn't know what it could be about.

Sam's older brother looked back at him then, his exhaustion bone-deep. Utter defeat weighed on Dean's shoulders like a yoke.

"Fine," Dean whispered. "If this is the way it has to be…"

Sam let out a breath. He couldn't believe Dean would ever agree to let him do this. That's why he'd snuck out of the bunker in the first place…

Sam turned toward Lucifer, who leered with victory just behind the metal gate. He gathered his courage, preparing himself to say yes…

"But not you, Sammy."

Both Sam and Lucifer turned, surprised.

Dean's green eyes flashed, then he faced the darkness inside the Cage.

"MICHAEL!" Dean bellowed. "GET OUT HERE, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Dean's shout echoed into the shadows. A figure slowly stepped out into the light, like blood seeping from a wound.

Michael twisted Adam's face into a menacing sneer as he approached the gate. "Oh look, brother," he murmured. "I get a visitor, too."

Dean's heart clenched at the sight of him, guilt over failing to save Adam washing over him. But he pushed it aside. If he succeeded, all would be set to rights.

The archangel peered through the gaps of the Cage, his eyes hungry like an apex predator's right before a kill.

Despite his fear and disgust, Dean stepped forward, yanking up his shirt sleeve. The Mark burned angrily on his flesh.

"Can you get this off?" Dean asked.

"Dean, what are you…" Sam began, taking a step toward his brother.

"Shut up, Sammy," Dean snarled. His words came out more viciously than he meant to, but the Mark was clamoring in his head and he was on the verge of losing control.

To his surprise – and certainly to Sam's – Sam's voice cut off mid-sentence. His mouth moved, trying to force out words, but his voice had been silenced. Sam stared at Dean in horror.

Dean swallowed, another wave of guilt heaping on top of him. When he'd seen Cain do the same silencing trick to Crowley, he'd thought it was funny. But to do it to Sam without even meaning to… All it did was prove further that the Mark needed to come off. Now.

The elder Winchester turned back to Michael, who was watching Sam struggle to speak with great amusement.

"How about it, Buttercup?" Dean pressed, sweat collecting on his brow. "Can you undo it?"

Michael smiled mirthlessly, then pressed himself against the metalwork to take a closer look at the Mark.

"Why yes, I believe I could," he purred.

"Thought so," Dean said. "If you take it off me, I'll jailbreak you."

Sam, still silenced, shook his head fervently, wide-eyed.

"Hey!" Lucifer growled, all snark gone, to be replaced by anger. "No one can remove that Mark but me. You're not leaving me here!"

"You shut up too. The grown-ups are talking," Michael said coolly, lazily waving a hand a this brother. Lucifer was thrown back against the wall and pinned there, grunting.

"As if I couldn't unravel your little curse, baby brother," Michael added. "You forget I'm bigger than you."

"D…De…an…" Sam choked, desperately trying to force his voice through. He grabbed his brother's shoulder, tried to make him look him in the eye.

Dean, ignoring his brother, turned around to face Crowley. "Do it."

The demon appeared by Sam's side. "You're sure?"

Dean nodded.

In a blink, Crowley had transported Sam to the far end of the room, next to the stairs. A thick shackle was fastened around Sam's wrist, chaining him to the wall, far out of reach of his brother.

Sam stared at the chain, then at Crowley. He gritted his teeth.

"W…Why?" he demanded, then coughed. The silencing was starting to fade.

Crowley shrugged. "Sorry, Moose," he said. "Gotta look out for my own, here. Can't let you free Lucifer, I'd be too high on his 'Kill First' list. Michael on the other hand, couldn't give a rat's ass about Hell."

"You son of a bitch!" Sam snarled, throwing his strength against the chain, but it was too thick. "Don't let him do this!"

"Squirrel made his own choice," Crowley replied heavily. "You forced his hand."

Sam growled in frustration, pulling harder against the chain. "Dean! DEAN!"

But across the room, Dean ignored his brother's cries. He was focused on the archangel eyeing him like a particularly juicy cut of meat.

"Say yes, and I'll remove it," Michael said.

"Remove it first," Dean shot back. "Then you get your ticket out."

"And how do I know you won't just leave me here after I do?"

"Consider this my official consent. You remove the Mark, permanently and completely, I say yes."

Michael laughed. "After all the crap you pulled the last time we did this little dance… Who would have guessed that you'd be the one crawling back to me?"

Dean waited, heart hammering against his ribs.

"I accept your terms," Michael said finally.

"NO!" Sam roared.

Dean nodded, then removed a small knife from his pocket. He drew the blade across his palm, barely wincing as the blood dripped out onto the floor.

He wiped his hand across the metal grate, and muttered the incantation. The spell's effects were invisible, but there was the feeling of a thin sheet of glass shattering between him and the prisoner. The Cage's defensive spells weren't dropped enough to allow either angel out, but it was enough to let something in.

Dean shoved his right hand through the hole. Michael's grip clamped around his wrist, quick as a viper's strike, and yanked him closer. Dean slammed against the Cage, his arm pulled through up to the shoulder.

Michael placed a hand over the Mark, and a bright light began glowing on his palm.

Dean fought to hold still as discomfort turned to pain, which in turn built into searing agony. He grunted, his flesh burning under Michael's touch.

"NO, DEAN!" Sam screamed, but his brother was deaf to his pleas.

The pain only grew more intense. Dean yelled, unable to hold it in any longer. If the angel hadn't been gripping him so tightly, he might have fallen to his knees. It felt as through Michael were burning through to the bone, leeching poison from his blood.

And then the pain vanished. Dean heaved in a huge breath of air, his knees weak. The murderous influence that had been present in the back of his mind for so long, too long, was finally gone.

And in its place grew a sickening chill of dread.

Dean looked into Michael's eyes. A fire burned in them, a twisted, menacing light. A high-pitched ringing sounded in his ears. It reverberated in his skull. He could feel what was coming.

The door into the antechamber slammed open above Sam's head. He twisted around to see Castiel, battered and nose bleeding.

"CAS, STOP HIM!" Sam bellowed.

Castiel's eyes flicked from Sam, then to Dean, gripped by Michael through the Cage's defenses. His face blanched with horror.

As Sam watched, Castiel disappeared and reappeared next to Dean, reaching out to grab his friend.

And then the whole chamber was engulfed in blinding white light.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Sam dropped to his knees, pressing his hands against his ears and squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as he could, but the light still burned into him. The ringing noise reached a deafening pitch that felt like it was about to grind his bones into dust. Sam yelled in pain and fear, curling himself into a ball, desperate for it to stop…

And then it did.

Sam blinked, trying to clear the dazzling shadow-lights from his vision. Across the room, Adam's lifeless body lay just on the other side of the Cage. In front of it, Castiel stood next to Dean, one hand gripping his shoulder. He appeared stunned, and he suddenly dropped his hand and backed away from Dean.

Sam watched as his brother slowly rotated his neck from side to side, heard the vertebrae crackle into place. Then Dean looked up at Cas and grinned.

Except it wasn't Dean's grin anymore.

Castiel shot backwards, hitting the wall so hard it cracked. Cas crumpled to the floor, knocked senseless.

Michael advanced on Castiel slowly, as if he were stalking prey. It was Dean's voice, Dean's body, but Sam's brother was gone.

"Hello, little brother," the archangel said, voice low with menace. "Now, if I recall correctly, the last time I saw you, you lobbed a bottle of holy fire at me… I didn't appreciate that, Castiel."

Michael clenched a fist and slammed it into the side of Castiel's head with a sickening crunch. Cas fought to recover.

"Of course, I won't count the time you snuck into our Cage and made a withdrawal without our consent," Michael continued, circling his gasping brother. "Very sneaky, Castiel."

"Dean," Cas wheezed. "You have to fight him."

Michael laughed harshly. "I've had a _long_ time to dream about this moment. Trust me, Castiel, I won't be giving it up as easily as Lucifer did."

"Michael!" Lucifer yelled, furiously pushing himself against the Cage's walls. "Let me out! We can finish this together!"

Michael looked at him incredulously. "I have no interest in your little apocalypse anymore, Lucifer. You can stay in time-out until the sun explodes, for all I care."

Lucifer snarled and threw himself against the Cage, rattling the bars. "DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE ME HERE, YOU BASTARD!"

Michael ignored him, turning back to Castiel. "You on the other hand… You have to die. Slowly."

As Michael resumed beating Castiel, Sam continued desperately trying to pull his hand free from the shackle that kept him chained to the wall. He looked at Crowley, who seemed unsure of what to do.

"Please," Sam pleaded. "You gotta let me go!"

Michael hit Castiel again, this time in the jaw.

Crowley looked from the angels to Sam, calculating his options.

"Crowley!" Sam pressed. "We can still stop this!"

With a final look at Sam, the King of Hell finally snapped his fingers. The shackle sprang open, and Sam shook it off his wrist.

"It won't do any good," Crowley told him. "The deal is done. I'm not getting involved."

Sam glared at the demon, rubbing his wrist. "If this doesn't work, I hope Michael rips out your guts and strangles you to death with them."

Crowley made a face. "Anatomically improbable, Moose, but I appreciate the effort to sound intimidating."

With a growl of frustration, Sam left Crowley and ran toward the angels.

Castiel, breathing heavily and bleeding all over, fought to pull himself up to his hands and knees. His eyes searched Dean's face, desperately trying to discern any remnant of his friend.

"Dean…" he urged, barely clinging to consciousness. "This isn't you…"

He was answered with a merciless kick to the ribs.

"HEY!"

Michael turned to see Sam facing him down, a look of resolve on his face.

"Oh, Sammy, you didn't have to come all the way over here," Michael quipped. "I would've come to you as soon as I was done with my brother…"

"Dean, I know you can hear me," Sam said.

Michael rolled his eyes. "Your brother's grounded. He can't come out to play right now."

Sam swallowed and pressed on. "I need you to focus, Dean. I've been where you're at. I know what it feels like. He's pushing you down and it feels like you're locked inside your own head. But you have to keep pushing back. Don't stop!"

Michael made a noise of disgust, then backhanded Sam with massive strength. Sam fell backward from the force of the blow, sliding across the floor a few feet. His head reeled from the impact, but he shook the stars from his eyes and climbed to his feet.

"Dean, I'm here…" Sam said, taking a step toward his possessed brother. "I'm here."

Michael raised a hand. Sam felt himself being lifted into the air, and then he slammed into the wall, right above where Castiel was struggling to regain his footing.

"You just don't get it, do you, Sam?" Michael snarled. "Your brother's gone. He can't hear you. He can't save you. I'm going to kill you with his hands, and I am going to _love_ watching him tear himself apart about it. Because you know what? I'm not going to release my vessel's soul this time. I let Adam toddle off to heaven before, but not Dean. No, Dean's going to stay with me for the rest of eternity."

He smiled at the look of surprise in Sam's eyes.

"Oh, hadn't you figured it out?" Michael asked, jerking his head toward Adam's body that still lay on the other side of the gate. "That's been an empty meatsuit this whole time. Yes, poor little Adam died when Castiel firebombed me. His soul's been in heaven all along. I would say you're welcome for finally relieving you of that guilt, but you boys don't seem too broken up about it anyway…"

He pushed Sam harder against the wall with his power. Sam grunted as the force pressed against him painfully. Castiel coughed, spitting blood.

"Now," Michael murmured thoughtfully, pointing to Sam and Castiel in turn. "Should I kill _you_ first, then _you_? Or the other way around? Hmmm… so many options…"

Michael stepped closed to them, murder glowing in his eyes…

And then he stopped.

Michael frowned, his hand dropping slightly. Sam felt the invisible force holding him against the wall weaken.

A spasm of pain – or was it fear? – flitted across Michael's face. "No," he hissed.

He grunted, falling to his knees, doubling over as if he'd been stabbed in the gut. The force holding Sam vanished altogether, and he dropped to his feet.

Michael let out a furious roar, and then his head snapped up. But the eyes… they were clear. They were Dean's again. His face contorted in pain as he fought to maintain control with every ounce of strength he had left.

"Sammy…" Dean gasped. "Run."

* * *

 **A/N:** Anybody else watch "Dark Dynasty" tonight? This show is going to be the death of me. I CANNOT HANDLE THESE FEELS.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Dean?" Sam crouched down and pulled Castiel to his feet. "You got him?"

"He's too strong!" Dean choked. "You gotta go. NOW!"

Dean leaped to his feet and staggered a few steps away. The pressure in his head was unbearable. He could feel Michael inside his mind, grappling for control. The archangel's hatred fueled him with terrifying strength. Dean knew this wasn't a fight he could hope to win.

The best he could do was give his brother a chance to escape.

"Cas!" Dean cried, another wave of Michael's influence slamming into him, nearly knocking him out of control. "Cas, you have to get him out of here!"

"I'm not leaving you!" Sam protested.

"I can't fly out of here," Castiel panted. "The room is spelled against escape, everywhere but the door."

"THEN DRAG HIM OUTSIDE!" Dean yelled. His skin felt hot and overly tight, like cooking meat, like it would split open any second.

"No!" Sam shouted as Castiel gripped his arm and began towing him away. "Dean! DEAN!"

Sam struggled against Castiel's hold, but the angel was too strong for him.

As Sam was dragged away, Dean tried to take a deep breath, but his lungs just wouldn't seem to fill. The pain in his head was brutal.

"I wouldn't fight it, Dean…"

Dean looked up to see Lucifer leaning against the bars of the Cage, leering down at him.

"Seriously," Lucifer said. "Michael was a dick _before_ you screwed up his plans and Sammy knocked him down here with us. He's more than a little pissed with you. And he's only going to take that anger out on you if you screw with him any longer."

"Shut up," Dean snapped.

"Just sayin'," Lucifer said with a shrug.

Castiel had nearly gotten Sam to the stairs, but the younger Winchester was still fighting back. Crowley had disappeared.

Another surge of Michael's power hit Dean square in the gut. He fell to his knees, gagging. He shut his eyes.

When he opened them, the chamber and the Cage had disappeared. Sam and Cas were nowhere to be seen. He was standing on a concrete floor, and looking around he saw iron plating and protective symbols carved on every surface. It took him a moment to recognize Bobby's old panic room, and Dean realized this was all in his head.

Michael stalked toward him from across the room, unadulterated fury in his eyes. Only he wasn't taking Adam's form anymore.

It was his father's. A young John Winchester, circa 1978, when Michael had possessed him during the fight with Anna.

Dean recoiled, unnerved to feel such unadulterated hatred radiating off the archangel before him.

Michael raised his hand to strike. Dean blocked the punch, but Michael followed with a vicious uppercut. Dean was knocked to the floor.

Michael planted a boot on his chest and pressed down mercilessly. Dean fought to breathe.

"Give in to me," Michael hissed. "Stop. Fighting. Me."

"Never," Dean gasped.

"I should have known you were being a dishonest little shit."

"Killing Sam and Cas was never part of the arrangement," Dean spat, trying to push the angel off of him and failing.

"Well now I'm not just going to kill them. I'm going to scrape through your memories and I'm going to kill EVERYONE you have ever cared about. EVERYONE you have ever saved. And then you know what I'm going to do? After I'm done murdering everyone who has ever meant something to you, I'm going to go find their places in heaven and cast every last one of them into the Pit and feed them to hellhounds for the rest of eternity. And it will be _all your fault_."

Dean listened in horror, knowing the archangel was completely capable of what he was threatening.

"Well then, Michael," he gasped. "Consider our deal broken. My consent is revoked."

With a mighty lurch, Dean knocked Michael off of him. The angel stumbled against the wall.

"NO!" Michael shrieked.

"Get out of my head!" Dean shouted, climbing to his feet.

"IF YOU CAST ME OUT NOW, I WILL TEAR YOU APART FROM THE INSIDE OUT!" the angel roared. "I WILL DESTROY YOU!"

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" Dean screamed.

And then the panic room disappeared in a blaze of white light.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Sam's heart stopped when he heard the first scream erupt from his brother's mouth. He and Cas froze, quite forgetting their struggle.

Dean writhed on the floor, rolling and convulsing as some horrible battle raged on inside him.

"Dean!" Sam cried, lunging toward his brother, but Castiel grabbed him back.

"No, Sam, wait!"

Dean dragged himself to his knees, but his movements were jerky, two minds trying to wrest control of the same body.

"IF YOU CAST ME OUT NOW, I WILL DESTROY YOU!" Dean's voice shrieked. "I WILL TEAR YOU APART FROM THE INSIDE OUT!"

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" the same voice answered.

Dean's head turned toward the Cage, and his mouth opened in another blood-curdling scream.

White-hot light shot out of his mouth, streaking through the hole in the Cage's defenses. The light continued to pour out, but it wasn't a steady stream, as if Michael was trying desperately to cling to Dean tooth and nail, leaving a jagged trail.

The whole room vibrated, shaking dust loose from the walls and making the stone creak ominously.

Even though the light burned his eyes, Sam lunged forward again when Dean's screams grew even more intense. But he was forced to throw his arm up when the light grew blindingly bright.

And all the while, on the other side of the gate, Lucifer laughed and laughed and laughed.

"Serves you right, big brother!" he jeered, his cackling growing wilder. "NEVER TRUST A WINCHESTER!"

Then he vanished, disappearing into some darker corner of his prison.

Suddenly, Dean's voice ceased it's bone-chilling cry. The last few tendrils of light left him, to be swallowed by the darkness of the Cage, and walls stopped shaking. Everything was terribly silent.

Sam opened his eyes.

Dean was still on his knees, swaying off-balance. Sam could hear his ragged breaths coming in painful gasps.

And then Dean fell. With a muffled thud, he fell on his back and lay very still.

"DEAN!" Sam cried, ripping free of Castiel's hold and running to his brother, followed closely by the angel.

Sam slumped to his knees at Dean's side, stomach roiling with nausea. His brother's eyes were closed, but thin tear trails leaked from them and ran down his pale face. Only they weren't from tears, they were from blood. More blood had erupted from his ears and stained his neck.

"Dean?" Sam whispered, fighting down the panic.

Dean took a rattling gasp of air. Sam couldn't help but breathe a small sigh of relief.

"He's alive," he said to Cas, though it was more to reassure himself.

"You should take him out of here," came a husky accented voice from behind them. Sam turned to see Crowley had reappeared, an odd look of concern on the demon's face as he stared down at Dean's broken form. "I'll clean up and put the kids to bed."

Crowley approached the Cage and began resetting its defenses. From somewhere deep within its depths came the hollow echoes of Lucifer's maniacal laughter.

Sam glared at the King of Hell, wanting nothing more than to rip the demon apart as he had promised so many times before. But Dean came first.

"Cas, help me get him up," Sam said.

Together, Sam and Castiel were able to pull Dean into a sitting position, and then onto Sam's shoulders.

"I can carry him…" Cas began, but Sam shook his head.

"I got him. Let's go."

Cas stuck close to Sam to steady him as he began carrying his brother up the stairs, but Sam didn't falter.

"Moose," Crowley called before they reached the top. "I'm sorry it came to this. I truly am."

Sam paused for a moment, then kept going.

They had just passed through the door leading out of the antechamber when Dean shifted slightly.

"Hey, I think he's waking up!" Sam said, easing himself to his knees so Castiel could pull Dean off of him.

Together they gently laid Dean on the stone floor, kneeling on either side of him.

Sam put one hand on Dean's forehead and the other on his chest. He could just barely feel his heartbeat through his sweat-soaked shirt.

"Dean?" Sam called. "Can you hear me, buddy?"

Dean took another ragged breath, then opened his eyes slightly. The white parts were completely flooded with blood.

Sam and Castiel traded relieved looks.

"Hey, man," Sam said. "You okay?"

Dean didn't answer. Instead his bloody eyes opened just a little bit wider.

Then they rolled back into his skull and his body began violently jerking.

Sam cried out in surprise and horror, desperately holding Dean down as the seizure tore through him. Castiel did the same.

"We have to get him to a hospital!" Sam yelled. "Can you get us out of here?"

"I'm too weak to carry you both!" Cas cried as Dean's convulsing grew more violent. "I'll come back for you!"

And then he and Dean were gone, and Sam was utterly alone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Cas struggled to hang onto Dean as his friend's seizure continued. He flew as fast as he could, but his strength was failing.

He crashed down into the ambulance bay of the nearest hospital. Two doctors and a nurse stood off to the side of the emergency entrance, chatting over to-go cups of coffee. Judging by the pale light of the sky, it couldn't have been very long after dawn.

Cas fell to the ground, unable to stand any longer, the pavement grinding into his knees. He held Dean close to his chest, the convulsions finally starting to quiet.

Castiel tried desperately to find the source of his power, his grace. He wanted to pour everything he had into healing Dean. But there was hardly a scrap of light left. He could barely fly. His grace simply hadn't regenerated enough.

"Help!" Cas yelled, and coughed wetly. Exhaustion seeped into every muscle and bone. Already weak, between being banished mere hours ago and the journey to bring Dean here, Cas was completely spent.

The hospital staff turned to look and immediately sprang into action. The two doctors ran to Cas while the nurse dashed inside to get a gurney and more help.

"What happened?" the first doctor, a curly-haired woman, asked as her colleague began assessing Dean's condition.

"I… uh…," Cas stumbled, unsure of what to say. Surely the truth was out of the question.

"How long has he been seizing? Does he have epilepsy or any other medical conditions that you know of?"

"Just a few minutes. And no…"

The nurse returned with a rolling stretcher and two more hospital employees.

"All right, let's get him up. _Gently_ ," the curly-haired doctor ordered. "Stabilize his neck. On my count, one, two, three!"

Castiel watched helplessly as they lifted his friend from his arms and settled him on the gurney, then began rolling him quickly away. Cas staggered after them.

"Possible traumatic brain injury," one of them was saying as they wheeled Dean into the emergency room. "Susan, I need vitals. And let's call radiology, set up a portable CT."

"I'm sorry, but you can't come in here," a nurse told Cas sympathetically, placing a hand on his chest. When she was satisfied he wouldn't follow, she disappeared through the door.

Feeling lost, Cas watched through the glass as the medical team worked on his friend. He looked so small lying on the bed… so fragile…

But he was in good hands, and Cas was needed elsewhere. He turned away and walked back toward the ambulance dock. Once he was safely outside and out of sight, Castiel took flight.

Within seconds he was back in Hell. Sam jumped, startled by his sudden appearance. The younger Winchester looked terrible. Haunted and scared.

"Cas," Sam began, but the angel just touched his arm and took off again, finally leaving behind that cursed place.

They landed just outside the emergency ward. Cas stumbled, nearly falling to the ground. Sam caught him.

"Hey, you okay? Cas?"

"I'm… I'm fine...," the angel muttered.

Together they hurried into the hospital, and Cas led the way to the room where the doctors continued to work on Dean.

Just as they arrived, a beeping alarm erupted inside the room. Dean's whole body began shaking and jerking, even more violently than before.

"He's seizing! Lorazepam!"

A nurse handed the doctor a syringe.

It took all of Sam's self-control to not burst in there. His eyes swam with tears. This was his fault, all his fault…

Something crashed behind him. Sam whirled around to see Cas lying on the floor, unconscious.

"Cas?" Sam cried, crouching down beside his friend. "Cas!"

But the angel gave no reponse.

"I need some help over here!" Sam yelled.

Two nurses came running around the corner. One of them called for assistance while the other examined Castiel. They were soon joined by a doctor and another nurse wheeling another gurney. Together, they all lifted Cas onto the bed, and he was borne away into a different exam room.

Sam watched them go, his hands on his head. He didn't know what to do. He turned in place, completely lost and alone. _This is my fault_ …

He just didn't know what to do.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"Mr. Hetfield?"

Sam looked up in a daze, then realized the doctor was talking to him. He leaped to his feet, towering over the woman. She had curly blonde hair that she kept tied back in a ponytail and warm brown eyes. At the moment they were full of compassion.

"Walk with me," she said kindly.

Sam followed as she led him out of the waiting room and down a series of hallways into a quieter section of the hospital, away from the noise and intensity of the trauma ward.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked. "A cup of coffee, some water?"

"No. Thank you," Sam replied, his gut twisting. "How are they?"

"Your friend Jimmy will be just fine," she told him, leading him to a stretch of empty chairs next to a window where they could speak privately.

A small piece of the burden on Sam's shoulders lifted as he sat down next to her. He had given the doctors a different name for Cas in an attempt to avoid suspicion, not to mention detection in case anyone came looking for them.

"He was severely dehydrated and we believe he collapsed due to acute exhaustion," she continued. "Frankly, judging by his vital signs, he should have dropped days ago. We've got him on fluids now and he's resting comfortably. But he'll probably be able to go home in two or three days. So long as he swears to never run himself down like that again. It could have been much worse."

Sam nodded, glancing out the window and trying to maintain his composure. The ache in his stomach tightened into a painful knot.

"How's my brother?" he asked quietly.

The doctor looked at her lap, choosing her words carefully. Never a good sign.

"The seizures have stopped," she told him slowly. "His vitals are stabilizing. We've moved him to intensive care for now just to be safe, but if his condition has improved enough by tomorrow morning, we'll move him up to recovery."

Sam nodded again, not meeting her eyes. He could feel a massive "but" coming…

"Our scans indicate that your brother suffered a massive intracranial hemorrhage. Bleeding in his brain. We didn't find any signs of external trauma to his head, so we're thinking it was some kind of aneurysm. A big one, I'm afraid."

Sam tried to fight down the tears pooling in his eyes, but he could feel the pressure building in his head and heat rising in his face.

"Will… will he be OK?" he asked hoarsely.

The doctor folded her hands in her lap. "He's alive, but there's no telling what sort of neurological damage we could be dealing with here. We won't know the full extent of his condition unless he regains consciousness. But he's breathing on his own and his basic lower brain function all appears to be intact, which is very good news. We'll just have to wait and see about the rest."

Sam swallowed a painful lump in his throat, staring at his hands.

"Hey," the doctor said gently. "You couldn't have known. People can walk around with aneurysms for decades without ever knowing. There's nothing you could have done to prevent this."

The first tear dripped down Sam's face when she said it. He brushed it away. He knew she was just trying to be nice, but her words stung worse than a knife to his gut. She had no idea just how much this was his fault. Completely. Dean's screams as the archangel ripped him apart still echoed in Sam's head...

He should have never gone to the Cage. He should never have gone behind his brother's back, even to save his life.

He may very well have lost him anyway.

* * *

 **A/N:** Still not over "Dark Dynasty." T_T

On a side note, you should all stop what you're doing and go to YouTube and search for the song "Skulls" by Bastille (love them!). The lyrics and the whole feel of the song are so perfect for Sam and Dean, I couldn't believe it the first time I heard it. There's LITERALLY a line that goes, "When all of our friends are dead and just a memory / And we're side by side, it's always been just you and me."

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed/followed/faved so far! Glad you're enjoying it! :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

 _Two Days Later…_

Castiel blinked heavily, looking around. He was lying on a rather comfortable bed, a rhythmic beeping pulsating from a machine to his right. Sunlight was streaming through the window. Looking down he saw he was in a hospital gown; his clothes were folded neatly on the chair by his bedside.

Groaning quietly, he sat up. His whole body was sore. His grace was still damaged, but it seemed to have recovered a little. Flying would be out of the question for a while.

Footsteps approached out in the hallway, and Sam appeared at the door.

"Cas," Sam said, entering the room with a small smile. "Good to see you up."

Cas surveyed the younger Winchester. Despite the casual tone of his voice, Cas could see his eyes were red and heavy, as if he hadn't slept well, if at all. The few lines on his face appeared deeper than ever.

"How long was I out?" Cas asked.

"Two days," Sam replied. "You OK?"

"I… appear to be all right. How's Dean?"

Sam's hesitation to answer sent a chill up Castiel's spine.

"Is… is he…"

"He's alive," Sam said quietly. "He's awake, actually. The doctors weren't sure even that would happen."

Castiel frowned up at Sam. What sounded like it should be good news appeared to add even more weight to Sam's shoulders. There had to be something he wasn't telling him…

"I was just heading there now," Sam continued. "You wanna get dressed and come with?"

Castiel nodded, throwing off the bed sheets. He had changed back into his normal clothes within minutes, and followed Sam down the hospital wing corridor.

After turning a corner, Sam came to a halt outside a room. The door was open, but Cas didn't hear any noise coming from within. Sam turned to face Castiel, a world of pain and guilt glimmering in his damp eyes.

"Cas…," Sam began, then paused to clear his throat. "Dean, he's… I should probably warn you… He's not the same."

Cas looked at him, dread growing in the pit of his stomach. "What do you mean?"

Sam just shook his head, then turned and walked into the room.

It was the same sort of plain recovery room Castiel had woken up in. Sunshine glowed warm and bright, filling the whole room. But the bed was empty. In a pool of morning light, a familiar figure sat in a wheelchair, his back to the door.

"Dean?" Sam said quietly. "Cas is here."

The figure didn't move or make a sound. He simply continued gazing out the window.

Castiel glanced at Sam and then approached his friend. When he reached Dean's side, he stopped.

Dean's eyes stared, unblinking, out the window. He was slumped in the wheelchair, not a single muscle so much as twitching. He didn't turn to look at Cas, didn't utter a single sound. He just continued looking out the window, seemingly oblivious to anyone else's presence.

Castiel's heart clenched. "Oh, no…," he whispered.

He placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Dean?" he asked.

Still no response.

Castiel backed away, a storm of emotion swirling inside his chest. He'd seen this before… Archangels had a way of using up their vessels, of breaking them because they were careless, self-righteous beings who never cared to notice how simple humans were affected by their possession. Hadn't Castiel himself warned Dean so many years ago that this would happen to him should he accept Michael? But Dean had been too stubborn to say yes then. Cas had been secretly relieved that this would never happen to the man he had begun to consider a friend…

And yet, despite all that, here they were.

Sam came to stand next to Castiel. Cas could see the younger Winchester had tried to put on a brave face for him before, but it was clear now how utterly heartbroken he was.

"Doctor says he's catatonic," Sam said heavily, his voice cracking. "Says it's permanent. From the bleeding in his brain."

"We'll fix this," Cas said flatly, fighting down the doubt leeching into his heart. "I'll fix this."

Before Sam could remind him how weak he still was, Cas stepped forward and gently placed one hand on Dean's head and closed his eyes. He searched inside himself for the source of his power. His grace flickered and waned, but perhaps he could use just enough to at least begin the healing process…

He called upon a small seed of his power, and directed it toward Dean. But Cas stopped. Something was wrong. Or really, something _wasn't_ wrong…

Castiel opened his eyes and dropped his hand. He looked at Sam, confused. Sam gave him a questioning look.

"The bleeding wasn't the problem, it was a side effect," Cas tried to explain. "There's no physical reason for this. Perhaps Michael somehow damaged Dean's mind when he took control."

"Or when Dean kicked him out ahead of schedule," Sam remarked.

Castiel nodded, then placed his hand on Dean's head once more. He closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, Cas' jaw dropped in horror.

He was no longer standing inside the hospital room. He was standing inside Dean's mind, only it no longer resembled anything remotely close to healthy.

Smoke permeated the air, so thick Castiel could barely see two feet in front of him. The sharp smell of ash and flames attacked his senses, and the ground felt soft, like overturned mud. When he looked down, he had to fight the urge to gag; the ground beneath him squelched with an inches-thick layer of soot that been trampled together with what could only be an unspeakable amount of blood.

Castiel gasped as his eyes flew open and he staggered backward from Dean, until his back hit the wall of the hospital room.

His heart pounded in his chest, a painful rage crashing through him. The lights flickered, and the whole room began to shake.

"Whoa, whoa!" Sam cried, grabbing Cas by the shoulders. "Cas, what's wrong? What happened?"

Castiel fought to control himself, taking a breath until the lights were once again steady and the walls had ceased their rumbling. "It would have been kinder to kill him," he growled under his breath, pure hatred boiling his veins for the monster that had done this.

"What?" Sam asked, stricken. He'd never seen Castiel so angry. "What did you see?"

"It's his mind," Castiel said. "Michael didn't just damage it. There's nothing left. He obliterated it."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

For an entire week, Castiel stood vigil by Dean's bedside with Sam. The two of them became like spirits haunting the hospital wing. For the first couple of days, the staff would shoo them away after visiting hours had ended, and they would return to the nearby motel so Sam could shower and grab a few hours of sleep, maybe eat something when Cas could coax him to. But after Castiel had recovered enough to fly a little, he would leave Sam to sleep and return to the hospital to watch over Dean through the night.

During these lonely nights, Cas would place his hand on Dean's head and re-enter his mind. There was never any sign of improvement. The smoke and the blood and the ruin were as gruesome as ever. But Cas had to hope that Dean was still in there somewhere. A human body couldn't sustain life without a mind. Some scrap of Dean's consciousness, however small, had to have survived the decimation Michael had wrought, or else he would be dead.

… Right?

No matter how long Cas searched, he couldn't find his friend inside the hollow shell his body had become. He called Dean's name through the smoke and the shadows until his throat was raw, but nothing and no one ever answered.

But Castiel came back every night, and every night he continued his search. He didn't care how long it took. He would find whatever part of his friend had survived and find a way to revive him.

He would bring Dean home.

-o-

Sam rubbed his eyes tiredly. Every passing day, his hopes crumbled further. Dean wasn't getting any better; in fact he seemed to be withering away. All he did was sleep and sit by the window, hardly even blinking. Every few hours, a nurse would come in to check his vitals, take samples, or change an IV bag. They also came in every few hours to pump food into the nasal-gastric tube that fed into Dean's stomach, since he could no longer eat on his own.

Sam could never bear to stay in the room for that.

All he could do was sit by his brother's side and wrack his brain for something, _anything_ , he could do to save him. Sam constantly had his laptop open, scouring the internet on the hospital's spotty wi-fi for anything that could help. He had called every hunter he knew. He had even spent two entire days, open to close, in the library down the street. But there was nothing.

Sam slammed his laptop shut in frustration, and looked at Dean. The brothers were sitting side by side in front of the window. Today was a rainy day. Sheets of water lashed against the glass and the first few rumbles of thunder could be heard off in the distance.

"If our places were switched, you would have figured it out by now," Sam murmured. "You would have found a spell, or a suped-up angel, or some kind of miracle healer days ago. So why can't I?"

His brother made no sign of hearing him.

Sam sighed, too tired to cry anymore. He just wanted his big brother back. It killed him to see his hero so utterly broken.

Especially when it was his fault in the first place. He would rather Dean still have the Mark of Cain than this.

Sam reached over and placed his hand on top of Dean's, gently folding his fingers around it.

"Dean?" Sam asked quietly. "Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can hear me."

But Dean's hand didn't so much as twitch.

"I'm here, man," Sam said. "And I'm not going anywhere."

"Mr. Hetfield?"

Sam turned to see the curly-haired doctor at the door. He stood up from his chair and walked over to her.

"How are you?" she asked.

Sam tried to say "OK," but the lie died in his throat.

She nodded slightly. "Mr. Hetfield…"

"Sam," he said. "Please, call me Sam."

She nodded again. "Sam… I think it would be a good idea for you to sit down with one of our grief counselors."

"He's not dead," Sam argued, the words coming out angrier than he intended.

"There are different kinds of grief," the doctor said kindly. "Different kinds of loss."

Sam swallowed, ignoring her words. "When can I take my brother home?"

Her face fell, and she opened her mouth as if she was about to say something, but then thought the better of it.

"Sam," she said quietly. "Dean… can't go home."

"Why not?" he demanded. "I can take care of him. He's my brother."

"I know you want to," she replied patiently. "And I think it's admirable that you want to. But… your brother's condition is permanent. He's going to need around-the-clock care for the rest of his life."

"I could hire someone to help," Sam insisted, but his heart sank lower with every word.

"He can't feed himself. He can't bathe himself," she told him, her voice firm but full of compassion. "He will need extensive physical therapy pretty much every day. He'll need medication. He'll need constant monitoring, all day and all night. He won't be able to tell you when something is wrong. He needs to be in a place where trained medical staff can attend to his needs 24/7. There's a lovely facility called Whisperwood just a few miles from here. An old college friend of mine works there. It would be the best place for him."

 _The best place for him is_ home _!_ Sam thought desperately, but he couldn't say it.

Seeing his distress, the doctor placed a hand on his arm. "Take some time to think about it," she told him. "If you have any questions for me, just come to the nurses' station on this floor. They'll be able to track me down. And when you're ready, the counseling center can be found on the third floor, east wing. Ask for Rose. I've spoken to her about you and your brother. She's a lovely woman. She can help you… let go."

With a reassuring pat, she left him alone again.

Sam watched her go, then slowly made his way back to the seat next to his brother. He felt painfully cold inside his chest as he sat down, as though his heart had been shoved inside a frozen vise.

They thought he should let go?

Sam grimly opened his laptop once more.

 _Never._


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"Sam, wake up."

Sam jolted awake at the sound of Cas' voice, his head shooting up before his eyes could even open. He winced at the aches in his back and neck and rubbed his face tiredly; he'd fallen asleep while poring over books of lore again, turning the small motel room table into a makeshift work station.

"Cas?" Sam asked groggily. "What's going on?"

"Something's wrong with Dean."

Without another word, Sam reached out to the angel, who firmly gripped his arm, and the motel room disappeared.

Sam blinked and he and Castiel were back in Dean's hospital room. His brother was sleeping in the bed, but he looked different. His pale face was flushed, and sweat glistened on his forehead. His breathing sounded raspy and wet, as if he were trying to breathe underwater.

"He started running a fever not too long ago," Cas said, his face lined with worry.

"Did you hear what the doctors said?" Sam asked.

"They gave him some medicine, but they said if it gets any higher, they'll have to move him back down to intensive care for closer monitoring."

Sam glanced at the machines next to his brother's bed. One of the monitors indicated that Dean's body temperature had risen to 102 degrees, and was getting worse.

"Is there anything you could do?" Sam asked hesitantly. He knew Cas had already been trying for days.

The angel looked at the ground, his face full of anger and sorrow. "He's dying, Sam. His mind… whatever part of him survived has reached its limit. He can't hang on any longer. If I could just reach him, maybe…"

"Then let me help look," Sam said. "Take me in with you."

Castiel shook his head. "It's too dangerous. If Dean dies while you're inside his head, there's no telling how that could rebound on you. You could be lost forever."

"What other choice do we have?" Sam said quietly. He looked at his brother's still form. "It's what he would do."

Castiel thought for a moment, but defeat weighed heavily on his shoulders. He knew Sam was right. They were simply out of options and out of time.

"All right," Cas said heavily. "You should sit down."

Sam quickly pulled a chair over to Dean's bedside. He took a breath and nodded to Castiel.

Cas placed one hand on Dean's head, and the other on Sam's.

"Stay close to me," Cas told him.

And then they were gone.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Sam's breath caught in his chest when he opened his eyes and saw the horrific decimation around him. For one wild second he thought is was snowing, but then he realized it was ash floating through the air, almost strangely serene. Tears welled up in his eyes, and fury flooded his heart.

"Damn it, Michael," Sam growled.

"We need to hurry," Cas said. "Dean's mind is crumbling. We need to find him. Now."

Sam nodded and hurried after the angel. His boots squelched in the messy ground, and the smells of smoke and blood assaulted his nose.

"Dean!" they called over and over again. "DEAN! Where are you?!"

But the only thing that ever answered them were the echoes of their own voices.

After what felt like hours of searching – Sam suspected time moved differently in this place – a flickering light somewhere far to the right caught his eye. Despite all the smoke and soot, this was the first sign of actual fire he had seen.

"Cas!" Sam said, pointing.

Castiel followed his gaze and nodded. The two took off running toward the light.

They drew closer and closer. And then Sam stopped dead in his tracks.

Flames leapt from the second floor of a house. _Their_ house. The one Sam came home to as a baby. The one where their mother was killed and everything began.

Sam's jaw dropped when he recognized it. Cas stood next to him, watching the flames consume the house.

"This… this is…," Cas said.

"Home," Sam whispered. "This must be… the night…"

"It's a memory…," Cas said, then suddenly, pointed. "Sam."

Sam looked where Castiel was gesturing. A small figure was huddled on the front lawn.

Sam ran forward, Castiel hot on his heels. When Sam reached the figure, he fell to his knees, gripped with horror.

The child's messy blonde hair flopped into his bright green eyes. Tears coursed down the little boy's round cheeks, sobs wracking his tiny body.

"Mommy!" the child screamed. "Daddy!"

"Dean?" Sam whispered, tears pooling in his own eyes. He reached out to the boy, who didn't seem to notice his presence.

"SAMMY!" the little boy screamed, clutching a bundle to his chest.

Sam looked down. The blanket Dean held was empty.

"Sammy!" Dean screamed again, rocking back and forth on his knees, holding the blanket to his chest. "Where are you, Sammy?!"

Sam choked back sobs. "This… this is wrong…" he whispered. He looked up at Cas with pleading eyes. "I don't understand… This isn't how it happened…"

Cas looked from the house to the child, speechless.

Sam placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, but the child didn't seem to be able to feel him. "This isn't how it happened!" Sam cried. "You said this was a memory! But he carried me out of the house that night, he saved me!"

He turned to the child. "Dean!" he said, shaking the boy's shoulder. "Dean, this isn't real!"

But the boy just kept crying and rocking.

Realization dawned on Castiel. "That's it," he said quickly. "Michael, he… He must have tried to destroy Dean's memories, those most important to his identity, to his soul. But the soul can't just be broken up, he wouldn't have been able to fully destroy anything that deeply ingrained. He must have implanted manipulations, false memories… But Dean's mind can't bear the strain, which is what's causing his body to fail!"

"How do we fix it?" Sam demanded, unable to tear his eyes away from the four-year-old version of his brother. Hatred for Michael coursed through his veins.

"If we can find Dean – the true one, not a memory – if we can help him see what's real and what's of Michael's invention… We may be able to put the broken pieces back together."

Cas looked at Sam, hope shining in his eyes for the first time in days.

"We may be able to save him."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

A low, thunderous rumble groaned beneath their feet, drowning out even the sounds of roaring flames and the screaming child. Everything shook violently, jarring Sam's bones. He staggered to his feet. Cas grabbed his arm.

"What is that?" Sam shouted over the din.

"It's the fever. We're running out of time, it's burning through him too quickly!" Cas answered. "Dean's body is trying to reconcile the damage to his mind and he can't take much more of this."

"Can't you do something?" Sam asked. "Buy us more time?"

"I might be able to slow it down," Castiel replied. "Maybe I can keep his body alive long enough for you to find him in here. But I'd have to go back to the outside…"

"So go, then."

"If I leave you here…"

"Cas, I'll be fine!" Sam yelled, the rumbling growing louder. "Just go, I'll find Dean!"

"If I don't pull you out in time…"

"Just GO!" Sam shouted, giving Cas a little shove and turning away. He ran a few steps away from the burning house, then glanced back. Castiel had disappeared. Dean's four-year-old memory self still knelt on the ground outside the house, crying and clutching the empty blanket to his little chest.

"I'll fix this, Dean," Sam whispered. "I promise."

-o-

Sam continued his search. The thunderous rumbling grew louder. The smoke grew thicker. The ground shook harder. And on Sam ran, shouting his brother's name, calling through the wasteland.

Just as the last traces of hope were beginning to dissipate from Sam's heart, what had been an endless stretch of completely flat land suddenly began sloping gradually upward. Sam picked up his pace.

The hill grew steeper, until Sam's legs were burning from exertion. Higher and higher he climbed, ascending above the smoke and dust. When he finally crested the rise, he froze.

On the other side of the hilltop, looking out over the vast stretch of ruin, was Dean.

Sam let out a small cry of relief, and hurried forward. "Dean!"

His brother turned, and the small bubble of hope that had welled up in Sam's chest instantly popped.

Dean's face, hands, and clothes were splattered with blood. Multiple deep cuts slashed across his chest, and his face was as pale as a ghost's save for the dark purple splotches of bruising around his eyes and jaw. His eyes, once so bright, were glassy and deathlike.

Sam stood in front of his brother, taking in the beaten and bloody sight. Dean appeared to be crumbling at the edges before Sam's eyes, as if he were made of corrupt data. He appeared cracked, pieces of himself flaking off like cinders sloughing off a burning log. He was disappearing, disintegrating. A strange sort of red light seeped through the cracks in Dean's skin, as if he were a grenade about to go off.

"Dean!" Sam repeated, reaching out to grab his brother's shoulders.

Dean just stared at him as though half asleep. He blinked, seemingly confused.

"Listen, Michael did something to you," Sam urged. "Your mind is ripping itself apart because it can't figure out what's real and what's not! You have to fight it!"

Dean blinked again, looking Sam dead in the eye. His voice was so quiet, Sam almost didn't hear him over the rumbling.

"Who are you?"

* * *

 **A/N:** Who's excited (and terrified) for "The Prisoner" tonight?! THIS GIRL.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Those three quiet words were like a punch to the throat. Sam stared at his brother, horrorstruck.

"Dean… it's me," he said, gripping his brother's shoulders tightly. "It's Sam."

"… Sam?" Dean tilted his head as if trying to look at him from a different angle. His eyes were completely devoid of life.

"Yeah, your brother."

"I… don't have a brother."

"Yes, you do!" Sam cried, tears welling up in his eyes. " _I'm_ your brother!"

Dean's eyes dropped to the ground, his brow furrowing as if he were trying very hard to remember something. Another crack appeared near his jawline. He was on the verge of disintegrating completely.

"My brother's dead…," he mumbled. "Sammy died a long, long time ago…"

"I didn't die in the fire that night, Dean!" Sam said pleadingly. "That's a false memory that Michael planted in your mind, and it's tearing you apart. Somewhere deep down, you know it's not true! You have to remember!"

Dean's eyes flickered closed, and his knees buckled. Sam caught him just before he collapsed, easing him to the ground. Both brothers fell to their knees, Sam helping to support Dean's weight.

The tears were flowing freely from Sam's eyes now. His brother was barely clinging to consciousness. Sam held his brother's face in his hands.

"Dean, look at me," he begged.

Dean stirred, then opened his eyes just a fraction. He looked at Sam, all life fading from him like a dying flame.

"You saved me," Sam told him. "You've gotta believe me. You saved me from the fire, you saved me from Lucifer, from the Trials… You've saved my life over and over again, I don't even know how many times now. You've always been there for me. After everything we've been through, after everything we've lost, you've always been the one thing I could _always_ count on."

Dean listened, Sam's voice the only thing still anchoring him to life.

"Please," Sam continued. " _Please_. Believe me. You're my brother. Remember me."

Dean blinked heavily, his eyes fading shut.

"Dean, it's me!" Sam cried, pulling his brother to his chest.

He held Dean, arms wrapped protectively around him. The construct of Dean's mind was disappearing into oblivion all around them; only a few more feet remained between them and the abyss. Time was up; there would be no chance of escape.

"I've got you," Sam promised. "I'm not gonna leave you."

Sam gripped Dean tighter, burying his head in his big brother's shoulder. He shut his eyes against impending doom as the walls of Dean's mind crumbled closer and closer around them.

"Remember," he whispered.

At first nothing happened.

Then he felt one of Dean's hands clutch the back of his jacket and hold on tight.

"Sammy…" Dean's ghostly voice whispered.

And then everything disappeared into darkness.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

"…Sam…"

The voice sounded muffled, as if he were hearing it through a thick wall. Darkness swam around him.

"…Sam?... Can you hear me?..."

 _Cas?_ Sam thought, but he couldn't seem to find his voice. He frowned, trying to turn his head to listen for his friend calling to him.

Sam slowly opened his eyes, blinking heavily. Castiel's face hovered in front of him, creased with worry.

"Cas?" Sam whispered. His throat felt raw and bloody, like ground meat.

Cas sighed in relief, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You OK?" the angel asked.

Sam stiffly dragged himself upright in the chair, rubbing his eyes. They felt as though someone had kicked sand in them. _What the hell happened…?_

With a jolt, Sam remembered. "Dean!" he choked, lurching forward. Cas put a hand on his shoulder to steady him, saving him from falling out of the chair.

Dean lay on the bed, soaked in sweat. His face was still pale, but the flushed pallor from the fever was gone. Sam glanced at the machines at his brother's bedside; his body temperature read 100 degrees and steadily falling, and his vitals were steadying.

Sam let out a breath, nearly breaking down. He held his head in his hands, barely daring to believe that they had actually done it. Dean's fever had broken.

A small noise escaped Dean's throat. Sam's head shot up.

Dean's face twitched, his brow furrowing. He coughed slightly, then once more.

"Dean?" Sam whispered. Castiel stepped closer to his friend's bedside.

Dean's eyes opened, a tiny slit of green visible in the moonlight. At first they looked blankly at the ceiling, glassy and unfocused. Then Dean blinked, and his head turned slightly to look at Cas, then his brother.

Sam swallowed, practically holding his breath.

Dean's mouth moved, opening slightly to take in a raspy breath through parched lips…

"S…Sam…my?"

Sam let out a noise halfway between a laugh and a sob. Next to him, Cas' face split into a grin.

"Hey, Dean," Sam said, his heart feeling lighter than it had in a long, long time.

Dean watched him, confused and utterly exhausted. "Wh…what…happ…ened?" he rasped.

Sam wiped his streaming eyes. "It's kind of a long story, man. The important thing is that you're OK. You should rest."

Dean looked as though he was about to argue, but Sam reached out and put a placating hand on his brother's arm.

"Seriously, dude. Just rest. Let someone take care of _you_ for a change."

Dean's eyelids grew heavier. He wouldn't be able to fight off sleep much longer. "You guys… OK?" he whispered.

Sam and Castiel traded tired smiles.

"Yeah, Dean. We're OK now," Sam said quietly.

-o-

The doctors were utterly flabbergasted when they came in to check on Dean the following morning. He was still quite out of it, but his cognitive functions had somehow miraculously improved exponentially overnight. He wasn't strong enough to leave his bed without assistance, and his speech was halting and a little slurred, but the fact that he had the presence of mind to ask for a breakfast sandwich with extra bacon, extra cheese, and extra grease was nothing short of mind-boggling.

They ran every test they could think of, but no one could explain his sudden improvement. At the end of the day, they had no choice but to write it off as a medical miracle.

Dean had to stay in the hospital for another week. Sam and Castiel never once left his side. By the third day after his fever had disappeared, he was able to stand, leaning heavily on Sam, and his strength grew by the day.

Once in a while, Sam would catch Dean with a far-off look on his face, his eyes staring blankly into space as if he were trying to remember something he'd forgotten. Sometimes he would look at Sam as if he didn't recognize him, but those moments became shorter and less frequent as the days passed.

Sam suspected it was an aftereffect of what Michael had done, that during these moments of confusion Dean had to remind himself what was real. They hadn't spoken about what had transpired inside Dean's mind or what might still be happening, but Sam could guess. He stayed patient with his brother, gently reminding him when necessary, just happy that he was alive.

Better than that. He was alive, he was healing, and the Mark of Cain was finally _gone_.

Eight days after the fever, Dean was declared strong enough to leave the hospital. He was still a little weak, but his condition had improved immensely (helped along by small doses of healing power from Castiel).

Sam helped his brother into his jacket as they prepared to leave. The curly-haired doctor had already stopped by to wish them well. Castiel had disappeared after muttering something about retrieving dinner for them. With a smirk, Sam suspected he would be flying all over the country just to pick up some of Dean's favorites.

Sam turned to lead the way out of the room, idly toying with the Impala's keys in his pocket.

"Sam."

He glanced back at his brother. Dean was looking at him, a meaningful look in his eye.

Sam frowned. "Something wrong?"

Dean didn't answer. Instead he crossed the distance between them and pulled his brother into a tight hug. Surprised at first, Sam returned the embrace.

"I remember," Dean said quietly.

Sam's heart squeezed, and he gripped his brother tighter, a silent promise to never let him go. After a moment, they stepped apart.

Sam cleared his throat, and smiled. "Let's go home."

 **THE END**

* * *

 **A/N:** I haven't written a fic in about three years. It has been SO MUCH FUN getting back into it for a little while. THANK YOU to everyone who's been so supportive and encouraging, especially YesteryearsGirl, Jenna Rudder, DearHart, sabidoche, Quicker Than Silver, and Lakey. I'm so glad you've enjoyed the story! I've certainly enjoyed writing it.

SEASON FINALE NEXT WEEK! I probably won't be able to handle it. Correction: I DEFINITELY WON'T. See you on the other side, friends!

Love, EB


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